


When Nine Hundred Years Old You Reach...

by Waldo



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Community: Jantolution, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-28
Updated: 2008-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 01:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waldo/pseuds/Waldo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto is caught between not wanting to cause a scene and wanting someone (namely Jack) to notice how awful he feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Nine Hundred Years Old You Reach...

**Author's Note:**

>   Written for the [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/jantolution/profile)[**jantolution**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/jantolution/) [challenge #10](http://community.livejournal.com/jantolution/291220.html) \- Theme: Fluff, added element: an Ewok. (how very WIAD, only... not :)

He hated causing a scene. And worse, he hated people seeing him when he was weak. This would pass. He just needed to give it another few minutes. In a few more minutes he could wash his face and head back out. He'd get through the day and go home and collapse where he wouldn't cause a scene. He resolutely ignored the little part of him that kind of actually wanted Jack to find him there on the bathroom floor puking his guts out. He'd never admit that it might be nice to be fussed over for a bit, given how absolutely lousy he felt. But he was a realist and he knew that if Jack _did_ find him, he'd end up turning him over to Owen to be sure he hadn't picked up some sort of alien plague and then, best case scenario, he'd simply be left to get himself home and into bed. After all he was a little too old to be tucked in with a teddy bear and a lullaby. And it wasn't like he and Jack had the sort of relationship that led to that kind of thing anyway.

&lt;{*}&gt;

Jack read two more lines and looked up across the hub. Three lines this time before he looked again.

"Jack, is there something you're looking for?" Tosh called from where she had computer parts spread across the floor between his office and her desk.

"No. Yes. No." Jack said still looking around the hub.

"Well, thanks for that definitive answer," Owen chimed in from his own desk.

"Where's Ianto?" Jack asked suddenly.

"Up in the tourist office, I think," Tosh said without looking up from the wires she was splicing. "I haven't seen him most of the afternoon, so I assumed he was up there. It's a nice day. Lots of people bound to be around."

Jack shook his head before turning to his computer. A few computer clicks revealed Tosh to be wrong. "Gwen's up there," Jack said, perplexity creeping into his voice.

Jack stood up and shoved his chair back under his desk. "Where the hell did he go?"

&lt;{*}&gt;

Silver and black stars were sparkling in front of his eyes as he retched again. He'd pulled his tie off long ago and now he reached up to unbutton his top button. He was starting to think that maybe he'd pulled a muscle in his chest. His head was pounding. And as much as he knew Jack would freak out if he found him on the floor, lying down on the cool tile was starting to sound quite appealing.

&lt;{*}&gt;

"He's not in the vault, the kitchen, or the archives and Gwen says he hasn't gone out the tourist office entrance. His phone and earpiece are on his desk." Jack stood in the middle of the hub, hands on his hips.

"How does someone just vanish out of here?" Tosh asked, now carefully pushing the bits of her project over to the side to help with whatever search Jack would call for.

"Wait, before everyone starts grabbing guns and scanning for alien radiation, are we sure we've checked everywhere?" Owen asked, leaning back in his chair. "The storage areas down on level nine? The garage? The loo? Whatever."

"You don't seriously think he's been in the loo for an hour, do you?" Tosh asked as she sat at her computer and began pulling up the hub's internal CCTV.

Jack took the stairs two at a time and pounded viciously on the bathroom door when the handle didn't turn. "Ianto?" He paused for a second before banging again, "Ianto?!"

The door opened a fraction of an inch. By the time Jack had pushed the door open, Ianto was back over the toilet, vomiting up bile. "Shit! Ianto!" Jack moved quickly to his side. "Owen! Get the hell up here!"

"Guess we found him," Owen muttered to Tosh as he ran up the steps.

&lt;{*}&gt;

Ianto's stomach finally relented and he began to sag to the floor, but Jack caught him and held him against him. "What happened?"

"Let me sit, Jack, please." Ianto squeezed his eyes shut against the bright light Jack had flipped on. He didn't want to show Jack how weak he felt, but ultimately decided that sitting somewhat gracefully on the tile would be far less worrisome than if he simply passed out.

Jack lowered them down to the floor, Ianto cradled on his lap. "What's wrong? Have you been up here all afternoon?"

"I have no idea anymore," Ianto whispered. "Jack, there's a cup of water by the sink, could you…?" His head was in a vice and his throat burned from the vomiting. His chest hurt each time he inhaled and he wasn't entirely sure his stomach was done convulsing even though he'd long ago purged it of anything. And he had chills so bad his arms and legs ached from them.

Jack stretched and found the cup with his fingertips. He held the cup to Ianto's lips and helped him sit up to rinse and spit into the toilet. "Better?"

"Not especially," Ianto grumbled before remembering that he was trying to not freak people out worse.

Owen thundered in and dropped down next to the pair of them. "What's going on?"

"He's hot as hell," Jack said pushing Ianto's hair back off his forehead.

"Oi, Jack, this is hardly the time; he looks right miserable," Owen teased.

Jack laughed. "I think you may be worse than me, if you actually thought I was going there."

"What's going on, Ianto?" Owen asked as he undid another button on Ianto's shirt and slid his stethescope inside.

Ianto let his head fall back against Jack's shoulder. This is exactly the fuss he wanted to avoid. "I think my lunch is taking revenge," he muttered. "I'm just a little nauseous."

"A little nauseous?" Jack echoed. "You were throwing up bile when I came in. Not to mention you can't even stand up on your own."

"I'm a little tired," Ianto downplayed Jack's concerns. "It's better now."

Owen pulled him forward and slid the stethoscope around to listen to Ianto's lungs. "Deep breath… let it out… again…" Owen listened and then pulled the device from Ianto's shirt and then from his ears. He hung it around his neck. "How's the nausea right now?"

"Better, mostly. There is _nothing_ left in me, I'm sure of that," Ianto said, eyes drifting shut.

"When did you start feeling poorly?" Owen pressed the back of his hand against Ianto's cheek.

"I had a hard time waking up this morning, but I was just tired." Ianto coughed as the acid burns in his throat were aggravated from speaking. Jack tried to pass him the water again, but Ianto made a face and pushed the cup away. He deliberately left out the fact that he'd only managed half a cup of coffee earlier that morning before his stomach had threatened to rebel and that absolutely nothing sounded like a good idea for breakfast or lunch.

Owen gave Jack a raised eyebrow, deciding that getting an unvarnished opinion from Ianto wasn't going to happen. "How bad was he?"

"Don't look at me. He went home last night." Owen's raised-eyebrow expression didn't change. "And I didn't go with him," Jack added.

It took Owen naught point six seconds to figure out what that meant. "So you weren't feeling well last night either," he said to himself as much as the others. He looked back at Jack. "Help him downstairs. I want to get his blood pressure and temperature." Owen headed out and left Jack to sort Ianto.

 

Jack was holding Ianto up as they slowly made their way down the stairs. Ianto's eyes were scrunched closed as if the bright lights of the Hub hurt his head. He wobbled as he crossed the flat plane of concrete between the stairs and the autopsy room. He let Jack give him a hand as he wearily boosted himself up onto the table. As Owen opened his mouth to speak, Ianto cut him off. "I am not laying down on a fucking autopsy table." He could manage to stay upright long enough for Owen's tests. He wasn't going to risk the idea that laying down on the hard metal might be just comfortable enough that he'd fall asleep there. It was not only going to make him look as weak as he felt, but it was creepy as hell.

"Lovely mood," Owen commented and cut off any retort Ianto might have had with a digital thermometer probe. "Hold that there a minute." He wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Ianto's arm, over his shirt.

Readings taken, Owen put his hands on his hips. "I'm going to take a little blood, but I have a pretty good idea what I'm going to find. Flu's been rampant this year."

Ianto unbuttoned his cuff and held out his arm, wanting the poking and prodding done sooner rather than later. He was starting to feel that desperate need to be horizontal again, but he was still rather creeped out by the idea of being laid out on a mortuary table. Jack slid behind him, gently squeezing stiff and sore shoulders. Ianto gave in and let his head loll back against Jack's chest, his eyes drifting shut. He winced as Owen poked him in the elbow, his head feeling light and the nausea returning.

Two vials of blood later, Owen was stripping off his rubber gloves and Jack was holding the little pad of gauze to the puncture hole. Ianto felt like he should say something. Something about getting work done or even possibly going home so that at least he was out of the way of those who could get their work done. But it was too much effort. After a few seconds Jack was tapping the top of his head. "You asleep down there?"

Ianto forced his eyes open and shook his head to clear it. "No. Sorry. I'm awake." He immediately regretted shaking his head and pressed his fingers against his eyes.

"Arm out again," Owen told him.

Ianto sighed and cooperated, flinching as he felt a needle slide into his arm again. "That's for the nausea and it's also a mild sedative." Ianto pulled back as he felt yet another poke. "And that's a little B12."

"Sedative?" Jack asked from his place where realized he was more and more responsible for holding Ianto upright. "He's barely on his feet right now."

"Yep," Owen agreed. "But I think we both know that if he isn't slowed down but good, he's going to attempt to go straight back to work. And really… not a good idea."

Ianto frowned, wondering if it was a good thing or not that they thought he was both such a workaholic and such a masochist.

Jack drummed his fingers on the edge of the table. Getting Ianto home and into pajamas and tucked into bed before the sedative kicked in was highly unlikely. He squeezed Ianto's arm. "Come on, you. We better get you downstairs before you do end up stretched out across this table."

"Jack," Ianto sighed, sounding for all the world like he just didn't have the heart to have this discussion, but knew he was supposed to put up a token protest. "I can go home. Owen said it's just the flu." He knew it would be a struggle to actually make it to his car and be coherent enough to drive if Jack actually took him at his word, but he still wasn't ready to simply capitulate. He squelched down the part of him hoping that Jack meant to actually take care of him, not simply dump him on the bed they'd – so far – only shared during better times. He wasn't sure they were anywhere near the place where he could expect Jack to tuck him in and bring him soup and juice.

Jack came around and helped Ianto to stand. "Owen said he _thinks_ it's the flu. Until he's sure, you're staying here. Also? You were just sedated. You aren't going to make it home. You can sleep downstairs where we can both keep an eye on you."

Ianto sighed as he felt his eyelids start to drop. At this point, cooperating with Jack would actually be the smallest fuss for everyone, so he just nodded. His mind was now chasing itself in circles trying to decide what constituted 'keep an eye on you' in Jack's book.

"Good," Jack said kissing him on the forehead.

"You're going to get sick," Ianto complained even as he felt his head start to spin from the illness, the sedative and trying to – at the worst possible moment – determine where exactly he and Jack stood with each other.

"It won't kill me," Jack said lightly. He hooked a hand around Ianto's waist and led him to his office and had him sit on the edge of the hatch. Jack dropped down first and helped Ianto balance as he climbed awkwardly down the ladder.

The sedative was really starting to catch up with Ianto as he hit the floor. Without waiting or even shedding his Oxford, he staggered to the bed and dropped onto the edge. Shoes still on, Ianto curled up, his head barely on the pillow. "Go on back up, sir. I'm alright," he insisted.

Jack shook his head and smiled fondly at Ianto. He wondered how much the sedative was really necessary. Ianto had been exhausted when they'd found him. But now? He was clearly going to be out for the count. "Not hardly," he replied with a chuckle. "Come on," Jack said as he sat next to him. He tugged on Ianto's shoulder until the other man rolled onto his back. "Let's get you undressed, you're going to be out for a while."

"'m cold," Ianto complained, trying to bat Jack's hands away as Jack carefully unknotted Ianto's cuffs and started on his shirt buttons.

"I'll get you the quilt, but you can't sleep in your clothes," Jack explained quietly as he carefully sat Ianto up enough to tug the blue cotton out of his pants and slip it off his shoulders and, set it aside before going to work on Ianto's laces.

By the time Jack had his shoes off and Ianto's shirt and pants hanging in the make-shift closet, Ianto was deeply unconscious. Jack got him tucked under the sheet and cotton blanket before pulling the promised down quilt out of the trunk at the edge of the bed and draping it over him.

Jack popped back into his office long enough to holler to Owen that Ianto was asleep and to grab the stack of paperwork Ianto had been hounding him about from the corner of his desk. He went back down and sat on the other side of the bed, legs stretched out.

The paperwork was too boring to continue on with after an hour, and Ianto was showing no sign of stirring so Jack set up the little TV/DVD player Tosh and Gwen had gotten him the last time Ianto had been forced to convalesce in the hub. There was a CD portfolio of a dozen or so movies Owen had provided back then, only two of which he and Ianto had ever actually watched.

He flipped through the titles before sticking in something likely to hold his attention without requiring deep thought.

Ianto woke from a strange dream riding his bike in a lush green forest before crashing into a tree and being discovered by a talking bear cub. He dismissed the odd dream as a product of a fevered mind until the familiar dialogue on the telly penetrated his brain. Apparently someone had turned on one of the _Star Wars_ movies. That explained the dream. He lay still, listening to the movie and floating in the bliss of finally not feeling like complete and total shit. The bedsprings creaked and shifted and Ianto became aware of a warm leg pressed against his through the blankets. He had to take conscious deep breaths to get a grip on the emotions that rolled through him as he realized Jack had stayed while he slept. He hadn't expected that. It was nice enough of him to be sure Ianto was undressed and tucked in, but he hadn't expected him to hover. He hadn't expected it to mean so much that he had. He lay very still not wanting move and risk disturbing another fever-induced dream.

He drifted in and out for a few minutes, Jack seemingly unaware of the brief periods of consciousness until the movie hit its epic battle and Ianto asked quietly , "Do they really exist?"

Jack set aside the bag of pretzels he'd retrieved when Tosh had called him up to check on something. "You awake?" he asked.

"Afraid so," Ianto answered, his eyes still closed. "Though honestly, I'd prefer not to be."

Jack brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. "So go back to sleep."

"I really have to go to the loo," Ianto confessed quietly. He felt pathetic for desperately wanting to stay still, to keep Jack nearby, to not break the spell.

Jack laughed and stood to help him up and across the small living space under his office. He let Ianto take it from the bathroom door, but was there to steady him back over to the bed when he came back out.

Once Jack had him tucked back in, Ianto waved a hand blearily at the screen where _Return of the Jedi_ was still playing – the big forest battle in full swing. "You didn't answer my question." Maybe if he could keep up a conversation, Jack wouldn't leave quite yet.

"What question?" Jack asked as he draped the quilt over him again.

"Do they really exist?"

"What?"

"Cute fuzzy aliens, who really do mean no harm."

Jack looked up in time to see the Ewoks on the screen wrap a rope around one of the large machines invading their forest, causing it to tumble to the ground, causing the cute critters to jump around and cheer. "I suppose. But, you know, mostly they keep to themselves. So outside of a Rift Gift, we're not like to run into them."

Ianto nodded. "I know it's not the Weevil's _fault_ or anything, but I'm kind of sick of only getting the big bad scary ones, you know?" He wasn't sure that was exactly a logical segue from where the conversation had been, but even though he felt mostly better, his head still felt muzzy and thick.

Jack pulled Ianto over to rest his head on his lap and began to gently rub his back through his t-shirt. "I guess the good news is, we aren't getting too many critters who really can't take care of themselves. I mean, if one of those guys ended up here? What chance would it stand? Even if we got to it first, the best we could do with it is make it comfortable in the vaults. We can't exactly book it a ticket home."

"Fair point," Ianto muttered through a yawn. He snuggled into Jack's lap, still feeling a bit stunned by Jack's attentiveness and concern.

"Go back to sleep," Jack whispered as he settled the blankets more securely around Ianto's shoulders. "Owen said he'd pick up some food that would be easy on your stomach before he goes home. But he thinks you'll sleep more or less through the night."

Ianto nodded. "You don't have to stay," he said, much more because he thought he was supposed to than because he wanted Jack to go. It had been so very, very long since someone had snuggled him and doted over him while he'd been sick.

"I know I don't _have_ to," Jack told him. "I want to. So unless I'm bugging you, get comfortable."

Ianto twisted and wiggled a bit, 'accidentally' rubbing his eyes against the fabric of Jack's trousers, neatly wiping away the tears of both gratitude and fatigue. "You're not bothering me," Ianto said drowsily, knowing that it was a lame answer. He made a mental note to try to find a way to tell Jack how much this all meant to him. There wasn't enough good coffee in the world, he knew. He'd have to put in some serious thought… when his head was considerably clearer. He wondered if Jack noticed the smile that he just couldn't repress as he settled against Jack's leg, Jack's hand in his hair, as his eyes closed again.

Jack laughed quietly petting Ianto's hair. "You still look like hell. Get some more sleep."

Ianto giggled as the movie – one he'd seen dozens of times since his childhood – bubbled up through his foggy brain. "When nine-hundred years old you reach, look as good, you will not," he quoted.

"Hey there!" Jack said sharply, "One of my best friends is nine-hundred years old. And he looks damn good. Ears are a bit big, but other than that…" Ianto could feel him shrug.

"You'll be nine-hundred some day," Ianto pointed out.

"Yeah, and with my luck I'll end up looking like a little green troll, too."

Ianto snorted, "I'd still sleep with you," he said before being forced to give into a jaw-cracking yawn.

"Speaking of sleep," Jack said, taking Ianto's hand and placing a gentle kiss on the back of his knuckles, you should be doing exactly that.

Ianto sighed and stretched, fever-cramped muscles making him wince. "I suppose." He really was feeling better now. His stomach was calm and his head was foggy but painless. He reflected on how completely melodramatically he'd handled the whole day. He felt a blush spread across his cheeks. "I really am okay now, Jack. Just tired. You don't have to stay."

Jack thumped him on the head with his fingertips. "We had this discussion. Now go to sleep," Jack ordered more stearnly.

Ianto decided that at that point, discretion – not to mention getting what he wanted after all – was the better part of valor, so he snuggled into Jack's lap one more time before letting himself drift off to the tunes of the Ewok celebration song on the telly. He had a pretty good idea how they felt right then.


End file.
